


Don't Play no Game that I Can't Win

by ouroboros



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Nook Eating, Oral Sex, Xeno, blackish red romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:04:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouroboros/pseuds/ouroboros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing Dave likes more than messing with Karkat is eating him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Play no Game that I Can't Win

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Messy as it Comes (art!)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/18810) by Faun-Songs. 



You’ve been wandering the meteor for a while, hands in your pockets, halfassedly rapping under your breath and kicking at things. You’re bored and, hell, kind of horny, which means you’re really just looking for Karkat. After he wasn’t in his room or in the lab or the library or any fucking where else, you give up and head back to your room. You’re almost there and all of a sudden there he is, slinking away from your door, trying to look all casual like he wasn’t looking for you for the same damn reason. He hasn’t noticed you yet.

You aren’t _trying_ to sneak up on him, but he isn’t paying attention and then all of a sudden you are right behind him. So, naturally, you slap his ass. Hard.

“JEGUS DICKSHITTING FUCK,” He whirls around, affronted volcano of insults already spewing before he even knows it’s you, and once he sees you he only gets louder.

You bite your lip and wiggle your eyebrows at him, not sure if you want him to find it more inviting or obnoxious. He is looking at you like you are the biggest of all idiots, and you give up, grab his face and kiss him, because it’s true. You just want him to be _quiet_ for one goddamn minute. He growls at you but his finger is already hooked in the elastic of your pants and he’s kissing you back. _Success_.

You bite his lip and slide your hand around to the small of his back, pulling him in, closing the space between your bodies. At the first press of your already hardening dick to his thigh, he starts walking you backward toward your room. It’s kind of hilarious how easy it always is to woo the dude, but it isn’t surprising. He jumps into everything headfucking first, planning or yelling or screwing, it doesn’t matter. If he wants to do something, he does it. Lucky for you.

Taking off each other’s clothes always takes longer than it should. It’s a moment full of elbows and knees and _hold the fuck on you writhing piece of-_ , and _move your damn hand, I can’t reach-_. Neither of you are patient enough to stop undressing each other long enough to let the other get much headway. You stop, finally both naked, you on your knees on the bed and him standing, feet splayed widely on the floor. He reaches up-it is the only part of the process he does slowly- for your shades, which you made sure were the last thing to come off (it took some holding on while your shirt was being yanked ungracefully off your head).

The first time he ever took them off your face he was surprised enough at the color of your eyes to be actually speechless. It was also the first time he kissed you. This time he is smirking at you, gearing up to call you a sentimental bulgemunch or something, but you cut him off with a kiss, grabbing his hips and pulling him onto the bed. He makes a desperate noise into your mouth and follows.

He falls back on the pillows, already breathing heavy, and you sit there for a moment, taking him in.

“I’m not a fucking statue, you insipid shitstick. Quit observing and get to...it...” he trails off, staring you down like you are him. You follow his eyes as they slide down to your erection and back up to your face, “ _Dave_.”

Your name in his mouth is somewhere between a command and a plea. You know how he is, his every emotion radiating out of him at top volume, a fountain of profanity trying to mask his straight-up terror at the thought that people might not be listening. You know he hopes no one hears the edge of fear on his sharp voice, but you always see it, laid as bare as his body is right now. You try not to feel overly fond of him for it and you fail. You fail _hard_ , because his legs fall open for you and he is just _laying there,_ flushed and panting and needing you and looking at you out of the corner of his eye like he is daring you to call him on it. You raise an eyebrow, just to remind him you could, but then you smile and lean down closer to him, dipping in for a kiss but pulling away as soon as his chin juts up to meet you.

This triggers a fresh avalanche of insults and he takes it out on your scalp, your head jerked to the side by his hand knotted in your hair. You’ve got a plan, though, and you slide your hands along his body as you move further down. He loosens his grip on your hair when he realizes where you’re headed.

You lean in, hands resting on his thighs, and nip at the skin above where his bulge is tucked away. It makes his hips rise against you, reaching, but you don’t try and coax it out. That’s not what you want, not right now. At the first touch of your mouth to his nook, he nearly screams, and it only makes you dig your fingers into his thighs harder. It is warm and wet and god damn amazing. You breathe it in and it smells like him and like other things you can’t identify but that you are _definitely into_.

You run your tongue along his slit, and he _does_ scream. You were trying to start light, to tease him a little more, but your self control is not what you pretend it is, and he just tastes so _good_.  It’s messy and you’re not entirely sure you know what you’re dealing with, but it’s not like he isn’t responsive. There are probably words for all the parts, but you haven’t learned them. You know what they do, though. You know that licking the soft folds make him shiver, and sucking where they meet at the top of his slit makes him clench his thighs around your head, almost tightly enough to block out his shrieks of incoherent praise. You know that tonguing the inside of him makes him arch up, reaching for more of you. You know there’s not a single goddamn inch of his nook that you don’t want to have on your face at pretty much any point in any of your existences from here on out.

Karkat’s nook is probably pretty different, you think, than the human equivalent. Not that you’d know. Your worry about having to know your way around one of those got swallowed by fire along with the rest of the Earth, taken up by newer worries like dying as few times as possible. That’s about as far as you go thinking about it. It’s there, you like it, and it’s _Karkat’s._

You’ve never been much for overanalyzation- Rose and Karkat have the market cornered there and that’s fine with you. It is actually kind of why you enjoy doing this. Doing this to _him_ \- making his constantly turning mind shut up for a damn second. You’ve figured it out. You know by now that when you hear his voice disappear behind a hitched breath, feel his back arch under the pressure of your hand, that you’ve done it. His words stop. This time, he’s halfway through some ridiculous half-coherent profane ramble that, if you were collaborating on lyrics, you’d think was pretty fucking choice. But this collaboration, the small sounds you make and the big ones he does, the snap of teeth and slide of tongue and fingers on hipbones guiding the rhythm of bodies and _no more fucking thinking_? It is infinitely better.

You look up at him from down there, admiring your handiwork as well as you can without stopping, and he is clutching the pillow behind his head, mouth wide open in a silent scream. And he is shaking. His whole body is trembling, and you are fucking blown away all over again by this angry alien boy who lets you bury your face in his nook and doesn’t care how much you know he likes it. You involuntarily grind into the bed, your dick throbbing with your wanting of him.

“D-dave” he’s found his voice, but just barely “Dave, _now._ ”

His bulge is out now, and you know he’s about to get there, but you aren’t stopping this time. You hadn’t thought about it until this second, but nope, no bucket. Not happening. You hold on to him, digging your thumbs into his hipbones as he comes, bucking against your mouth a last time. It runs all down his waist and onto the bed and it is probably in your hair and you don’t give a fuck because he is actually smiling, eyes half open, and his breaths, ragged and happy, are the only sound he is making.

You wipe your face with your discarded shirt and climb up his body, laying down next to him, a leg hooked around his. You kiss the part of him where his neck meets his shoulder, mostly because it was right there in front of you, you wanted to taste him one more time, and it looked like a place your mouth might as well go. It’s also partly because you know how much that shit gets him, both physically and because of whatever emotional crescendo of a metaphor he wants to build around the perfect puzzle pieces of mouths and collarbones. You don’t buy it, but you definitely like the results of him thinking it, so you go ahead and give him the ammunition. See, there! He sighs. You laugh quietly into him and kiss him there again, so he knows you did it on purpose. You watch the flush spread from where your mouth touched him. It creeps up his neck and behind his ears, and it is red like yours. He turns to face you and looks right in your eyes, unblinking. You kiss his mouth, and this time it’s for both of you.

**Author's Note:**

> It's hot here gotta say it's so  
> I got you right where I want  
> Got an honest face so you turn your back  
> When in doubt run up your attack  
> ...  
> I tell you what we know always holds us back  
> Now you mutter and you stutter and you putter don't stop  
> I got in your heart and I shook you up  
> In a bind, now you're caught by the fear setting in  
> Choked on the thought that you done it again


End file.
